


White Dwarf

by hauntedsilences



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Eventual Sterek, M/M, Magic Stiles, Pack Bonding, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is a Star
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedsilences/pseuds/hauntedsilences
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles decides to find out what Deaton meant by "spark" and ends up absorbing the power of a star? Oops.<br/>So now astronomers are freaking out, Stiles is making puns, and Derek is trying to be a good alpha.<br/>Also, Stiles manages to reveal his new powers in a way that puts him in danger from both the supernatural world, and the government.<br/>Canon Divergent after Season 2<br/>Alpha pack? What alpha pack?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cutestpixieyoueversaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutestpixieyoueversaw/gifts).



> The idea for this literally came to me in a dream and I couldn't help but write it.
> 
> All mistakes are mine, so feel free to point them out, and I'll fix them when I get the chance.  
> <3

After the big confrontation with Gerard, everyone went home, still pretty shaken up. Derek, Isaac, and Peter all went back to the old Hale house. Derek was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and even though the threat was gone, it didn’t really feel like he’d won. Tonight had made him realize a lot of things, primarily that Scott couldn’t actually be trusted, and he obviously didn’t trust Derek either. It hurt more than Derek cared to admit. The speech he’d made at the very beginning came back to haunt him. _We’re brothers now._ Clearly not. So Derek wanted to be alone. Wanted to curl up and lick his wounds, forget the entire night. But he had a responsibility to Isaac, specifically, who kept glancing his way and giving him worried looks.

Derek bit back a sigh and sat in an armchair, glaring at the floor in front of him. The sound of footsteps approaching the house broke him out of his brooding and he paid attention, recognizing the steps and looking up towards the door expectantly. Boyd and Erica entered the house with their metaphorical tails between their legs. They’d obviously had just as bad a night if the state of their clothing and the weary look in their eyes was anything to go by. Derek raised a questioning eyebrow in their direction, not bothering to get up from his chair. They shuffled forward, clearly ashamed, and Isaac kept darting looks between them and Derek. Peter wasn’t in the room, but Derek would be stupid to think he’d gone very far. 

Erica cleared her throat and took a hesitant step towards Derek. “We…we’re sorry.” She whispered. Her voice was scratchy and her face tear-stained. “The Argents…it was a recording. There aren’t any other wolves.” She said brokenly and Boyd nodded next to her. 

Derek frowned but nodded for them to continue. This time Boyd spoke. “We screwed up, Derek. And we get it if you’d rather we leave, but…”

“You’re pack.” Derek interrupted. “You’ll always have a place here.” 

Erica let out a relieved sob and lunged forward to embrace Derek and he caught her out of reflex, hugging her back awkwardly. He frowned, but it was more out of confusion than anything else. Even Boyd came closer to place a grateful hand on Derek’s shoulder, and the Alpha nodded at him. 

“I was just so scared, Derek. I thought we were gonna die and I panicked and convinced Boyd to come with me.” She sobbed into Derek’s shoulder. Derek could see Isaac slowly approaching, and he was struck by the image of a puppy wanting to join in a puppy pile. It almost made it smile. Almost. Derek rubbed Erica’s back and let her cry it out. He had to admit that this, right here, was probably the most surreal part of the night. Of course, the tender little pack moment was ruined by a certain uncle who had terrible timing. 

“How sweet, is anyone going to invite me to pack cuddle time too?” Peter asked from where he was leaning against the door frame. Erica and Boyd both turned to growl at him, baring their teeth but Derek shook his head. “That’s Derek’s creepy uncle who apparently was dead but not anymore because magic?” Isaac helpfully supplied. “From what I’ve gathered, we don’t actually trust him, right?” He asked Derek, who gave a curt nod. Erica looked Peter up and down and sniffed in his direction. “He smells wrong. Dead.” She said, scrunching her nose up in distaste. Even Boyd adopted a more protective stance, moving in front of Erica to glare at Peter. 

Peter rolled his eyes and moved toward the stack of books on the table, sifting through them as if looking for something. “I was, but it turns out that death is terribly dull.” 

……

Stiles gave Lydia (and by extension, Jackson) a ride home since he’d been her ride there in the first place. Scott said he’d just run home, so Stiles agreed that they’d talk later. Unfortunately that detour meant that Stiles ended up coming back home pretty late and hey…that was his dad’s cruiser. And his dad, standing in front of it, arms crossed. Shit. 

Now, for the record, Stiles didn’t actually like lying to his dad, okay? It was just something that had become increasingly necessary because werewolves and kanimas and how do you even start to explain that without getting committed to a mental institution? So Stiles would have totally preferred to just tell his dad everything, but now it was kind of late for that, Stiles was in waaay too deep and where would he even start? So he braced himself for more lies as he pulled into the driveway and got out of the jeep, wincing at his dad’s expression.  
“Heeey dad…” He said awkwardly, to which the Sheriff just frowned.

“We need to talk, son.” He said and grabbed Stiles’ bicep, marching him into the house and to the kitchen table. “Sit.” He directed, moving to pour himself a whiskey. Stiles rubbed sweaty palms on his pants and couldn’t help but feel like a criminal waiting to be interrogated. How did this become his life? 

John sat across the table from him and glared, pursing his lips as he took in his son’s appearance. “So. When, exactly were you planning on telling me that you’ve been running around with a gang of werewolves?” He asked.

Stiles flailed out of his seat. “Whaaa-?” He asked with wide eyes. He gaped like a fish for a few moments and when he finally shut his mouth, the only thing he could think of to say was, “They’re called a pack, dad. Not a gang.” 

John leveled him with an impatient glare, “I don’t care what they’re called, Stiles, I care that you thought it was a good idea to keep this from me.” 

Stiles dropped his eyes guiltily. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” 

“Well I was…but then things got kinda crazy, and I didn’t really think you’d believe me even if I did tell you, and then I was too deep into things, and I don’t know. I guess it all just got out of hand.” He shrugged. 

John sighed. “I get that, Stiles. I do. I just had a long and complicated talk with Ms. McCall and Scott while you were gone and they explained it all. It took me awhile to hear her out, and I’m probably going to have nightmares after seeing Scott turn into…that…but their explanation makes the most sense of what’s been happening in this town lately.”

“So uh…you’re not angry…?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“Of course I’m angry, are you out of your damn mind?” John asked incredulously. “I’m mad about all the lying you’ve been doing, and it’s going to take me a while to trust you completely, and I’d ground you if I didn’t know you’ll still find a way to sneak out the next time a friend needs help.” He said, shaking his head in resignation. “Look Stiles, my first instinct is to lock you away and keep you out of this mess, but you’re my son, and I know you. So that’s why I’m going to give you an opportunity. You will keep me in the loop 100%. No lies, no omissions, you’ll tell me absolutely everything, okay?” 

Stiles wanted to protest, but he also knew that this was the best deal he was going to get. And really, it would probably help in the long run to have someone on their side in law enforcement, so he nodded. “Sure, dad. Full disclosure. Got it.” He agreed. 

John exhaled, “Good. That’s…good. Now, tell me something. You’re still human, right? I mean, I haven’t missed a recent change in species, have I?” He asked, looking slightly worried. 

Stiles barked out a laugh, “No, yeah, I’m human. Totally still human. Although apparently I might be slightly magical or something?”

John sighed, “Of course you are. So what, you’re a wizard now? Are you going to start levitating things?” 

Stiles scoffed, “Man, I wish. No, I have no idea. Like, there’s this stuff—mountain ash—and it’s like, a barrier against werewolves and other supernatural creatures. But in order for it to be an effective barrier, the person that put it down has to have some kind of magical ability? Deaton called it a “spark” and I was gonna ask him what that meant, but we were dealing with lizard boy and there were other things to worry about.” Stiles explained. “But yeah, basically he said I have a spark because I can manipulate mountain ash, so I was planning on harassing him for more information, but for now that’s really all I know how to do, which isn’t really all that useful.” He shrugged. 

John raised his eyebrows, “A spark, huh? Wow, okay. Well as long as you don’t blow anything up or set things on fire, I guess that’s fine. And I agree, you should try to get more information, preferably with the least amount of harassment as possible.” He said with a meaningful look. “Speaking of Jackson, what happened to him? In fact, where have you been? Which really should have been my opening line of inquiry, but I wanted to get the werewolf conversation out of the way first.” 

Stiles chuckled, “Well I got there halfway through, but from what I was told, basically Scott, Isaac and Mr. Argent, werewolf hunter, were taking Jackson to Derek so that he could deal with him. But Gerard, Mr. Argent’s psychopathic father followed them because he’s the kanima’s master. And apparently he had cancer and wanted the bite from Derek to cure it? And really, that’s the last thing we need, a werewolf werewolf hunter. So Scott went behind everyone’s back and arranged this whole thing, forcing Derek to bite Gerard in exchange for being allowed to date Allison, which was kind of a dick move—”

“Language.” 

“Sorry. But anyway, he had secretly filled Gerard’s pills with mountain ash so his body rejected the bite and I think he’s dying now? Mr. Argent said he’d take care of it. But yeah, then Lydia and Jackson had a bonding moment and declared their undying love for each other and that cured Jackson and now he’s just a werewolf. That’s the short version, anyway.” 

John nodded seriously. “So Scott didn’t tell anyone about his plan, then?”

Stiles shook his head. “Nope. He didn’t tell anyone, not even me, which, really? And I kind of feel bad for Derek. You should have seen his face, he looked so…broken, and betrayed. I mean, him and I don’t really get along, but I don’t hate him, not really. And seeing him like that?” Stiles broke off, upset. 

“I get it son. What Scott did, he did without Derek’s consent, and it’s wrong to take away someone’s choice like that.” He said seriously. “From what I understand werewolves are a lot like wolves right? The whole pack mentality? So for Scott to go off on his own like that, it probably felt even worse for someone like Derek, who not only has been a werewolf all his life, but he’s also the alpha, right? Melissa said that was like the leader of the pack.”

“Yeah, apparently Scott told him that Derek wasn’t his alpha. Which is pretty dumb if you ask me because even though Derek’s made some bad decisions, like, he’s still trying to help. And he was the one that tried to help Scott after he was bitten. And Scott needs a pack. Derek said that werewolves without a pack are called omegas and they’re a lot weaker. So even if Derek’s not that great of an alpha, at least he is one, right? Being part of a pack should feel better than being alone.” Stiles mused. 

“I remember Derek as a kid. I remember their whole family, really. But he was a good kid, and the last time I saw him after the fire, he just looked so lost and broken. I was surprised the day I arrested him that I could still see that same look in his eyes.” John sighed. “Being put in a position of leadership like that is hard enough without having the background that Derek has. It may take him a while to figure out how to lead and in the meantime he could use all the help he can get.” 

Stiles winced. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I don’t know where he’d get that help, though. I mean, I don’t know anything about leading people, and he barely tolerates me as it is. But hey, dad! You’re the Sheriff, maybe you could talk to him? Give him pointers or whatever?” 

John smiled softly, “I was going to suggest the same thing.” 

“Ahhh, you know what they say about great minds!” 

“Yes, well. I need to talk to him anyway about the werewolf thing, and I was hoping to get his input on some cold cases that may or may not have been supernatural in nature. It’d be a pretty good time to impart my wisdom.” 

“Your Sheriff-ly wisdom, yes. Good plan.”

“Yes, and in the meantime, you should head off to bed, it’s late. We can continue this later.”

“Okay, dad, sounds good. I’ll talk to Deaton tomorrow and see what I can find out about this spark business.”

“You do that.” John stood up from the table, walking around to Stiles, who’d also stood. “I love you, son.” He said, wrapping his arms around Stiles, who buried his face in his father’s shoulder. “I love you too, dad.”

“No more secrets, okay?”

“No more secrets. Good night, Dad.” 

“Good night, Stiles.” 

……

Stiles drove over to harass Deaton first thing in the morning. Luckily it was a pretty slow day in the vet’s office, and so Deaton ushered him into the back as soon as he got there. 

“What can I do for you, Stiles?”

“You mentioned that I’m a spark. I want to know what that means.” 

Deaton hummed in thought, nodding to himself. “Yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that as well.” 

“So? What does it mean? Is it just gonna be mountain ash stuff or is it cooler than that? Am I a wizard?” 

“Not yet.” He said, moving to a bookshelf to pull out a binder filled with printed out pages. 

“That’s way less cooler than your old books, dude.” Stiles said. It was true, the pages were scanned from another book that was clearly much older. Deaton said nothing, just flipped through the pages until he got to a specific page.

“Here we go. Yes, I just needed to review my sources. Sparks are basically unrealized magical potential. It’s an aptitude, I suppose.”

“So like, I need to unlock my true form!” 

“In a manner of speaking, yes. You could be any number of magical beings, a mage, a druid, a witch…there are many possibilities, but we won’t know until you activate your spark.” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Okaaay…what’s the catch? How do I activate it? Does it require blood sacrifices, because if so, that’s so not cool. I mean, we could always use Peter, since he’s apparently back from the dead or something, like some kind of zombie wolf so I’d be cool with using him as my blood sacrifice, but maybe zombie blood won’t work?”

“No blood sacrifices, thankfully. The ritual to activate your spark is much less exciting, I’m afraid. It’s mostly a purification ritual combined with meditation and runic symbols, but it’s not terribly difficult.” Deaton said, amused. Stiles tried to hide his disappointment. 

“Umm, meditation? Doc, have you met me? Stiles? I don’t know if I can do that.” 

Deaton shook his head. “Don’t worry, it’s a guided meditation, and the runes will help guide your focus. It’s designed to help an untrained spark develop, and once you find your spark once, it’ll get easier.”

Stiles nodded slowly. “Okay, so when do we do this? Do we need to like, wait for the first full moon after the summer solstice or something?” 

“No, tomorrow is Sunday, we can try then. As I mentioned, the materials I need are fairly basic, and I have them all in stock.”

“Tomorrow? Yeah, that’s great, actually. Um. Should I bring anything?”

“No, just yourself. You’ll want to wear comfortable clothing, nothing too constricting.” He said, nodding meaningfully at Stiles’ skinny jeans.

……

Sheriff Stilinski pulled up in front of the old Hale house, and Derek opened the door, having heard him drive up. It was still fairly early in the morning, and the betas were still mostly asleep. 

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Derek asked warily. 

John regarded him steadily. “I spoke with Ms. McCall and Scott. You’re the alpha of this group of werewolves?” He asked. Derek raised his eyebrows in mild surprise, suppressing the twinge he felt at the mention of Scott. He’d wondered when the Sheriff was going to be let into the loop, but it really hadn’t been his decision to make, and even now he wasn’t sure what this was going to mean for the pack’s future. 

“Yes sir. I am.” He confirmed. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m not your enemy. I already told Stiles and now I’m telling you: I need to be kept in the loop at all times and we’ll get along fine.” He took a breath and looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I understand that some of what you and your…pack…does isn’t always strictly…legal. But this situation is complicated and sometimes we need to bend the rules a bit in order to protect others. As long as you can promise me that you’ll do everything in your power to keep these kids safe…?”

To say that Derek was surprised by the speech would be an understatement. He had expected the Sheriff to demand he stay away from the teens and keep them out of the supernatural mess. So to hear practically the opposite seemed an awful lot like a vote of confidence that Derek didn’t think he deserved. 

“Of course, Sir. I’ll do my best. It’s easier said than done, but I’ve always tried to keep them safe.” 

John nodded. “You know, Derek, when I was elected to my position, I had no idea what I was doing half the time. It seemed like an impossible job most days, and it took me a while to realize that just because I’m the Sheriff, it doesn’t mean I’m doing it alone. We’re a team for a reason, and we protect each other. No one can do it all themselves, Derek. This isn’t a criticism, just some advice from one man to another. I won’t pretend to know how your group functions, but if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know, alright?” 

“Yes sir. And…thank you.” The Sheriff’s assessment had been spot-on of course, and while Derek distantly understood what he was trying to say, the implementation was far more difficult in practice. How could he get his pack to work like a cohesive whole when they could barely stand each other and him on a good day? There were more than enough betas to make a strong pack if they’d all just work together…but how? Derek scrubbed a hand over his tired face. The Sheriff smiled sadly at him. 

“It won’t be easy, Derek. But you’re not alone.”

Derek frowned, but nodded in agreement, even if his expression conveyed more than a little disbelief. 

“Good. Now that that’s settled, I was wondering if you had time this week to come over and look at some cases for me? I could really use your help in determining if they’re supernatural or not. Even if I can’t put in on the official report, I’d like it for my own peace of mind at least.” 

……

“My dad wants to send me to London.” 

“What? Why?”

“He thinks it’d be better for me. To get away from all this mess.” 

“Does he know?”

“Not everything.”

“And what do you think?”

“I don’t want to leave you.” 

“Then don’t.” 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Isn’t it?”

“The others don’t want me here.”

“I want you. Is that enough?”

“…it might be.”

“Then we’ll figure it out, okay? Together.” 

“Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](221bjohnlock-street.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds out more about his spark in a most illuminating way...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are mine, so feel free to point them out, and I'll fix them when I get the chance.  
> <3
> 
> Also, I just finished writing chapter 4, and I got excited so you guys get a celebration update! Yay!

“So yeah, Dad, apparently I’m gonna be the next Harry Potter? Only not Harry, because I’m the king of research, so really I’m Hermione.” Stiles revealed excitedly. John raised his eyebrows. “Is that what Dr. Deaton said?” 

“Well kind of. He said my spark was untapped magical potential and I have to activate it to see what kind of magical being I am.” 

“There’s more than one kind?” 

“Yeah, apparently. Like, they deal with different magics. Like how druids deal with more earthy magic and witches rely on spells and incantations, that sort of thing. That’s assuming I don’t end up being evil because really, I don’t think I could pull off a Voldemort or a Sauron aesthetic. I mean, I like my nose? And also necromancy? Not really my thing.” He rambled.

“I’m pretty sure your nose is safe. I don’t think you just “turn” evil. That’s probably a conscious choice, Stiles.” John countered. 

“True, yeah, like a Jedi turning to the dark side. It’s all about how you use it. With great power comes great responsibility and all that, huh?” 

“Exactly. Oh, speaking of which, I spoke with Derek.” 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, eyebrows raised. “How did that go?”

John shrugged, “I think he probably thought I was going to arrest him again. He seemed pretty tired and out of his depth to be honest.” 

Stiles nodded, “Yeah, I’ve noticed that recently. So do you think that he’s going to take your advice?”

“I hope so. I think I left him with something to think about, and I’ll see him later this week to go over the cases, so we’ll see. I have high hopes for him. I think he’ll make an excellent leader once he lets go a little of his fear of failure.”

“How do you know that’s what’s keeping him back?” 

“I don’t, but I remember that was my problem when I started as Sheriff. I wanted to prove myself, and in doing so, I tried too hard, and it was noticeable. A deputy offered to help me with the paperwork that kept piling up because I insisted on doing it all myself. I wanted to say no, but he insisted. That’s probably when I realized that I was being stubborn and if I wanted this to work, I was going to have to learn to accept the help of others.”

Stiles hummed in thought, “Yeah, I can see that. Well I guess we’ll just have to show him we’re here for him, huh?”

……

Stiles showed up at Dr. Deaton’s office early the next morning, still in his pajamas, since the man had said to wear something comfortable. He couldn’t deny that he was feeling a little anxious. After all, it wasn’t everyday that you were able to finally realize your true magical potential, right? Deaton was already waiting for him and had cleared a space in the middle of the room for them. There was a large Persian rug that Stiles had never seen before in the space that the metal table usually occupied. It looked comfortable and completely out of place, but Stiles decided not to question it. Instead he watched as Deaton prepared a large basin full of water and herbs and a handful of other ingredients Stiles didn’t recognize. He rocked back and forth on his heels, eager to start. 

“So uhh, what’s that?” He nodded at the basin. 

“The first part of the ritual involves purification. Which for you, means a sponge bath.” 

Stiles sputtered, “Wha-what? Uh…” He looked around the room and didn’t see any sort of private place to do that. “Is that really necessary? I mean, I feel pretty pure. Yep. Pure Stiles, that’s me. I don’t need to strip down and bathe in leaf water, nope, not at all. That’s one hundred percent not needed!”

Deaton just rolled his eyes and kept working. “Mr. Stilinski, this isn’t negotiable. When I’m done with this, I’ll leave you in here to do that while I go prepare the rest of the materials we’ll need.” 

Okay, cool, Stiles could probably handle that, then. The less random nudity in front of creepy veterinarians the better. Stiles really hoped the water wasn’t cold. The vet’s office was always a little chilly, and today was no different. Stiles was already starting to get cold, since his pajamas weren’t really that thick, and the thought of a sponge bath with cold water didn’t exactly sound like his idea of a good time.

After a few moments, Deaton finished and nodded at the basin as he left the room. “Knock on the door when you’re done. You need to cover yourself in that mixture and let it dry on your skin. You’re free to redress when you’re dry.” He directed and left, closing the door behind him. Stiles moved over and flicked the lock, just in case, and moved to the basin, tugging his t-shirt off and tossing it on a counter. 

He took a steadying breath and tentatively stuck his hand in the water and immediately recoiled in surprise. It wasn’t cold, no, it was actually pretty uncomfortably hot, but for some reason didn’t give off steam. Maybe it was actually magical and not just leaf water, huh? Stiles tried again, grabbing the sponge and dipping it in the water, squeezing out the excess and hissing as the water burned his hand a little. He tried to be quick about it, but his earlier concern about freezing was unfounded, as the heat from the water as he dragged the sponge against his skin warmed him up pleasantly. Even the feeling of the water evaporating off of him wasn’t uncomfortable and by the time he was done, he wasn’t cold anymore, so he pulled his t-shirt back on and did the same with his lower half and then got dressed.

He knocked on the door like Deaton had told him to and unlocked the door. He didn’t have to wait long before he came back into the room with a large box he set on the counter. He pulled out some powders and more herbs and started to combine them with oils into a paste. He then set the paste aside and went about other preparations, placing large chunks of crystal in a rough circle on the rug and lighting sweet-smelling incense that made Stiles want to sneeze. Then he beckoned Stiles closer, “It’s time to draw the runes on you.” He explained.

“Symbols have more power than you can imagine.” He explained, dipping a brush in the paste and drawing it over Stiles’ chest. “Even when they aren’t drawn with magical items, you can still feel their effects, especially if they are drawn by someone with magic. But even humans can manage to work with runes and symbols if they can channel enough intent behind it.” 

Stiles nodded and looked down at the pattern of lines and swirls that were being drawn. They looked weird from this angle, but it made Stiles vaguely wonder what he’d look like with a series of awesome tattoos. They’d probably make him look like a badass, and Stiles allowed himself to grin a little at the thought, but then frowned when he remembered that tattoos involved needles and…yeah, no. Maybe he’d get a leather jacket instead. Less needles and pain involved. 

Stiles’ fingers tapped impatiently on his thigh as the paste dried on his chest and made him itch. He’d moved to scratch it once, but Deaton had swatted his hand out of the way. Stiles’ foot tapped and he clenched his fists hard enough that his nails dug into his palm, biting the inside of his cheek as the itch worsened. He tried complaining, repeatedly and loudly, but Deaton was ignoring him completely. The doctor was done drawing, and had moved instead to rinse out the bowls and clean his tools before it dried. 

It says a lot about how long Stiles had to stand there in agony that eventually the horrendous itch faded into the background and although Stiles was still very aware of it, it wasn’t quite as debilitating as before. 

“Now, we meditate.” Dr. Deaton announced, sitting cross-legged on one end of the circle, motioning for Stiles to do the same. 

“How do you expect me to meditate when I’m all itchy and distracted?” Stiles demanded, sitting on the plush rug. The doctor just gave an enigmatic smile and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Stiles narrowed his eyes, but decided to follow his lead. Breathing. Breathing is good, right? Nice, deep breaths full of incense smoke, invading his lungs with its sweetness and creating more itches in his throat and woah- that breath was too deep. Stiles coughed violently, hacking up a lung and eyes watering as he doubled over. When the coughing fit was over he looked up at Deaton with watery eyes and met his unimpressed gaze. “If you’re quite done…” 

“Yup! All done, all done with my little dying spell. No more dying here. So I guess you can do your thing now.” He waved his hand vaguely. “Make me all meditate-y. Meditation-ify me! Make me one with the universe, and my spark. Oh, hey! That reminds me of that one joke where the Buddhist walks into a pizza parlor and—” 

“Stiles, focus.” He interrupted. 

“Right. Focus. That’s me. I’mma be so focused you’ll call me a microscope! Or a telescope. Or a camera, really. Any of those will work, I guess—”

“Stiles.” 

“Sorry, sorry. Continue, please. Let’s get this part started.” 

Deaton sighed heavily but nodded. “You’re going to take deep breaths and concentrate and try not to get distracted. I’m going to place my hands on your head, which will allow me to show you your spark. What comes next should be instinctual and it varies from person to person. But essentially your mind will reach out to your spark and draw it in. Just do whatever feels right.” 

Stiles nodded seriously and pursed his lips. Deaton’s advice didn’t seem terribly useful, considering most of it was just “trust your instincts” and really? That’s like something out of a novel. Dude was giving off some serious Dumbledore vibes and Stiles didn’t appreciate it. But he figured that the sooner he unlocked his spark the sooner he’d be able to go grab some curly fries and learn to blow shit up. 

He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths and felt Deaton’s palms against the sides of his head and he started to wonder idly how much force it would take to crush a human skull, and hey, the werewolves could probably do that, but maybe it’d be helpful to have a list of supernatural creatures with head crushing abilities—

“Focus.”

Right. He was supposed to be focusing. How did Deaton know his mind was wandering, anyway? Was he reading his mind? Was he secretly a telepath this whole time? Were telepaths even a thing? That could be pretty horrible to find out the hard way. No, no, focus. He was supposed to be focusing. Fooooooocus. Focuuuus. Focus. Focus! Focusing. Focus didn’t even sound like a word anymore. Sounded like…a bodily fluid. Or maybe a cheese. Focus cheese. Yup. Maybe a different word? Concentration. No, that just reminded him of orange juice and chemistry and yeah, not helping. 

Stiles took another deep breath, trying to think about the way that the air filled and exited his lungs. In. Hold. Out. Hold. He directed his attention to the feeling of the doctor’s hands against his head, the way he could feel the warmth and pressure through his scalp. Nope, nothing interesting there. He wondered if maybe his spark was like Iron Man’s suit? Maybe he should be concentrating on his chest? Maybe there was some mystical light or something there? 

It was incredibly weird to try to focus on his internal organs, considering that he wasn’t completely sure where they were, like, exactly? And their dimensions? Not something most people would know off the top of their heads. Heads. Maybe it was there, after all? But not his head, his mind? Maybe he needed to look deep within his mind (whatever that meant)? 

Stiles pursed his lips, probably making a truly absurd face as he tried to delve into his own mind. It was uh, a mind. An abstract concept. The area in which his consciousness was housed. _Helloooo? Spark? Ya there, buddy?_ He called out into his own mind and felt like an idiot. But no, there was definitely something. There was like a pulsing feeling? To be honest, it felt a lot like a headache, but not physically? Like a mind-ache? 

“That’s it. Closer.” He distantly heard Deaton say, but he was caught up in analyzing this weird mental presence. He wondered if this was anything like getting possessed and then immediately decided he never wanted to know. He gave the pulsing a mental poke and woah! That was weird. It pulsed more. And flashed a little. It was like seeing sparks behind his eyes, but instead it was a bright golden light with a pure white center. _My spark?_ He wondered, and the light flashed brighter. Stiles didn’t know how to describe it, it was like looking at a lightbulb or staring straight at the sun. He wasn’t sure what exactly to do with it, and Deaton had said that it would be instinct, but Stiles didn’t feel any instincts. He was starting to get a real headache from the effort, though, and he wondered if he could nudge it out of his field of vision, as it were. It was too bright and it was hurting. So he poked at it some more, but it didn’t budge, just flared brighter. And kept getting brighter and brighter and brighter. Stiles groaned, squeezing his already-shut eyes tighter, as if that would help. It didn’t. 

Everything was too bright and heavy, so so heavy. It felt like a terrible weight behind his eyes, in his head, and it felt like his head was going to explode. Stiles distantly felt Deaton’s hands leave his head and he thought he could hear the man call his name, but Stiles couldn’t concentrate on anything but the light and the pressure that was still getting worse. The world tilted on its axis and Stiles supposed that he must have fallen over, but the ground was soft and the pressure shifted, but didn’t get better. No, instead it felt like it was spreading over his body like a lead blanket. Stiles couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, it felt like he was imploding, and someone was yelling, and the light was brighter, and he couldn’t remember how to open his eyes, but it didn’t matter because he was sure that his retinas were fried and he’d never see again. He heard agonized screaming, and he could feel his own throat dry and rough, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take in another breath. He shuddered out what little breath was left in his lungs and the light and the pressure consumed him. 

……

Stiles returned to consciousness slowly. First he was aware of the warmth that surrounded him, and the fact that his head was resting on his pillow. He’d know his pillow anywhere, so it was safe to assume that he was in his bed. But bed was at home, and he couldn’t remember going to bed. He took in a shaky breath and swallowed, wincing when he felt his sore throat. It all came back to him, the light, the pressure, the feeling of suffocation. Well. 

He had a brief moment of panic when he opened his eyes and he couldn’t see anything, but the glowing numbers of his alarm clock told him it was actually nine-thirty at night. Which meant he wasn’t blind, just slept through the day apparently. He swung his legs out of bed and got up, stumbling and moaning at the head rush that was a thousand times worse than anything he’d ever felt. 

“Oh god just kill me now.” He moaned pitifully, grasping his head in both hands as he slid to the floor, propped up against the side of the bed, knees drawn up. Distantly he heard someone say “He’s awake.” Followed by footsteps on the stairs and his door creaking open. 

“Stiles?” That was his father. 

“Kill me. Just…end my misery. I’ll take decapitation, please. My mind has betrayed me.” 

He heard his father huff out a laugh, but it still sounded worried. Stiles’ eyes were clamped tightly shut, but he could feel the air shift around him as his father came to kneel in front of him. “How do you feel?” He asked. 

Stiles groaned, “My head is killing me. Can you bring me like, three bottles of Tylenol? Anything to stop this…”

“I’m not letting you overdose, no, but Deaton left a bottle of really foul smelling liquid, and he said it would help you. He’s off doing some research because what happened wasn’t actually normal. I almost arrested him when he came in with you unconscious, I was so worried.”

Stiles nodded, and then immediately regretted the action. “Okay. Just, can you help me get up?” He asked. He cautiously opened his eyes, and realized that he wasn’t photosensitive anymore, which was a relief. He could see light streaming in from the hallway, and there was a dark figure standing in the doorway, but although he couldn’t make out any features, he’d know the set of those shoulders blindfolded. Or, you know, not. Because that makes no sense, since he wouldn’t be able to see them, but still, the point still stands. 

“Derek?” He asked, and he hummed an affirmative from the doorway, walking forward into the room, as if all he’d been waiting for was an acknowledgment. 

“Here, I brought the bottle.” He said, coming to stand next to the Sheriff and held the bottle out. It was in a little glass bottle that looked like it belonged in a potions lab rather than the middle of his bedroom. But Stiles took the bottle and immediately gagged when he smelled the contents. “Oh my god, no. This has got to be some kind of punishment. Or he’s trying to poison me. Definitely poison.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, and Stiles could tell, even if the light wasn’t really bright enough to see it. “I smelled it, it’s not poison. Drink it.” 

Aww, how sweet. Derek was sniffing out poisons for him. He’d have made a snarky remark, but he was still pretty nauseated just from the smell of the thing. “Um. Could someone grab me a glass of water? Because otherwise I’ll probably vomit once I manage to get this down if I can’t get the taste out of my mouth.”

John nodded, grabbing a glass off of his nightstand. Huh. He hadn’t actually seen that there, but then he didn’t have much time to take in his surroundings before he’d stupidly tried to fling himself out of bed. So Stiles pinched his nostrils with one hand and poured the liquid in with his other. Without his ability to smell, all he knew was that it was horribly bitter and it made his eyes water. He took a couple shaky breaths through his mouth then downed the glass of water without unpinching his nose. When the glass was empty, he finally let go and then immediately gagged. The taste was diluted, but it was still horrific. It was bitter and spicy like horseradish. It tasted like what he’d imagine moldy pond water tasted like. He’d be having very strong words for Deaton, that’s for sure. Bastard.

“Did it work?” His father asked, distracting him from his plan for revenge. He hadn’t really thought about it, since he was considering burning his tastebuds out of his mouth, but now that he mentioned it—

“Yeah, actually. I feel back to normal. Well, mostly, anyway. I still have this weird awareness? But the pain is gone.” He confirmed. “Oh hey, did Deaton tell you what kind of magic I am?” He asked, suddenly eager and excited. His father’s face, however, fell. 

“Uh, no. He said it was extremely unusual and that he’d need to do more research to find out exactly what happened. He said that he had some suspicions, but couldn’t confirm anything yet.” He said, standing up and helping Stiles stand as well. Now that the headache was gone, it was a lot easier to keep his balance. “Derek here was helping me with some cases when Deaton called that he was bringing you home. Derek offered to stay in case you have an issue with your control.” Derek nodded to confirm and Stiles raised his eyebrows. 

“Control? I don’t know, guys, I feel pretty in control right now. I mean, I feel like I could eat a cow, well maybe not, but definitely a small child, maybe. Although I’m not actually into cannibalism, regardless of the many favorable points brought up in Jonathan Swift’s satirical essay, but that’s really beside the point—” he broke off as he noticed the disturbed looks Derek and his father were giving him. What? He was hungry. He was a growing boy and he needed protein-rich foods. 

“Pizza?” He suggested hopefully, and his father sighed and nodded wearily. “Yeah, I’ll go call it in. Derek can help you downstairs.” 

Stiles nodded, rocking back and forth on his heels awkwardly. “Soooo…”

“Can you walk or are you still dizzy?”

“I think I can walk, yeah.” Stiles shrugged. “The stairs might be tricky, but just since I haven’t really gotten used to the whole equilibrium thing, but really, how does that differ from my day-to-day, right?” He grinned and the corner of Derek’s mouth twitched almost like he wanted to smile, but instead he grabbed Stiles’ bicep with a gruff “Let’s go.” And guided him (surprisingly gently) downstairs. He had to catch Stiles a couple times where he missed the step, but overall, no one was injured. Derek released Stiles at the bottom of the staircase, but followed him over to the living room and took a seat in one of the armchairs. The coffee table was filled with case files and Derek reached for one he’d obviously been going through before Stiles had woken up.

“Found a lot of supernatural shenanigans? Or just regular psychotic humans?” he asked from the couch. Derek shrugged, “Both. Most of the supernatural cases are fairly recent. My mother kept pretty close tabs on other supernatural creatures, so most cases from that time are human-related.” 

“Makes sense.” Stiles agreed. He wondered how alphas knew when others crossed their territories. Like, were they psychically linked to their territories, because how cool would that be? Or was it just by scent? Were there any creatures that they couldn’t smell? 

“Hey, Derek, are there any creatures that werewolves can’t smell?” He asked.

Derek frowned in thought, “We can’t smell spirits or magical projections because they’re not corporeal. Magic itself, though, we can sense. However, some witches and mages have learned to mask their scents or take on someone or something else’s scent.”

Stiles hummed in thought. It made sense, even if the implications were a little worrying. Before Stiles could get too far down that line of thought his father returned. “Pizza should be here soon, let me clean this up. We can watch a movie or something, how’s that sound?”

“Awesome! Derek?” He asked, turning to the profoundly uncomfortable-looking werewolf. He seemed to be waging an internal battle but after a moment, he nodded sharply. “I can stay for a while.” 

Stiles grinned happily at him, and could have sworn that he saw a tiny curve to Derek’s lips that absolutely was not just a trick of the light, alright? He saw it. 

They ended up watching the latest Avengers movie and even Derek seemed to…not hate it. Stiles even managed to get him to engage in an argument about plot holes and inconsistencies which was something that him and Scott usually did, but Derek was a million times more observant than Scott even when he was pretending not to watch the movie. It was so nice, in fact, that Stiles didn’t even notice when his dad went off to bed. It was around one in the morning that Derek realized what time it was and declared he was going to bed. Stiles, of course, did actually have school the next morning, so he was going to bed too. 

He made the guest room up for Derek, who insisted on staying to make sure Stiles didn’t freak out during the night and accidentally blow the house up or start shooting lightning out of his eyeballs or something. Of course, that’s not what Derek actually said, but Stiles was paraphrasing. How, exactly, Derek was planning to be a preventative measure, when he was going to be a room away and asleep, was beyond Stiles but he knew better than to argue with the wolf. At least when he didn’t want to wake his father. 

Stiles got ready for bed the way he did every night and it didn’t take him long, considering that he was already in pajamas from earlier. But he took a quick shower to get the runes and stuff off of him, which he hadn’t actually remembered until he’d been brushing his teeth and seen the edge of one peeking out under his t-shirt. 

Feeling much cleaner, he slipped into bed, turning off the lights and settling into his blankets. He was just about to drift off to sleep when a bright light nearly blinded him. He opened his eyes blearily, not quite understanding what he was seeing. It took him a moment to realize that the blinding light wasn’t coming from outside, nor was it coming from a light bulb. Stiles, far more awake now, looked down at himself in horror, squinting as he could barely make out his torso and limbs and fingers where they seemed to produce light out of their own volition. What the hell? Rather than the white-gold light of his spark, the light coming off of his body was completely white, with a slight tinge of blue around the edges. He looked around the room and saw that it was lit up brighter than if it was daytime and Stiles flopped back onto his pillow with a groan. 

“What the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](221bjohnlock-street.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was dead on his feet the next morning, not having been able to sleep the night before. Derek kept giving him worried glares whenever he thought Stiles wasn’t looking. Stiles needed gratuitous amounts of coffee if he was going to make it through the school day. He would have stayed home, but he’d already missed so many days with werewolf-related business, that he decided to tough it out and go anyway. 

He had luckily stopped glowing as soon as the sun started to rise, but by that time he’d been so keyed up that he couldn’t fall asleep even for a couple hours. Derek had, though, the traitor. He’d come bursting into the room when Stiles had exclaimed, and then insisted on staying until he was sure Stiles was okay, but then he left and went to sleep. 

Stiles poured himself a dejected bowl of cereal and sat in front of the television, bleary-eyed and hunched shoulders as the reporter gave the weather for the day. Stiles used to always watch the morning news back before werewolves when his schedule was normal and predictable. His mom had always done it, telling him that it was a good way to prepare for the day. He didn’t really care much for the news, but it made him feel closer to her, and he also liked watching something while he ate. 

After the weather, they were presenting some kind of breaking news that Stiles failed to catch the beginning of, lost in his thoughts. “…saying it disappeared completely! Astronomers are baffled, and fanatics are calling it the end of the world…”

That caught his attention. End of the world? Really? He tried to take it seriously for approximately 3.5 seconds before his thoughts drifted to zombie apocalypses and wow, imagine zombie werewolves. That was distinctly terrifying, but no, apparently scientists were freaking out because a star had inexplicably disappeared from the sky overnight. 

Stiles scoffed. Likely story. There were trillions of stars, maybe they just weren’t looking in the right direction? Stiles had tried to get into astronomy, even going so far as to ask for a telescope for his birthday one year, but after nights spent staring at the sky and wondering what the big deal was, he’d given up. They all looked the same, just some were dimmer than others and yeah, he wasn’t impressed. 

He finished his cereal and turned the television off, narrowing his eyes at Derek who was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, like it was somehow normal for the werewolf to be acting all domestic in his house and really, what the fuck? He didn’t really have the energy to snark about it, though, so he just poured his coffee in one of those large soup bowls that had handles like coffee mugs. Stiles loved this bowl. It had penguins on it, and how cool was that? 

He took several large gulps, burning his throat in the process and wincing. Well, he didn’t need tastebuds today, right? 

“You should get dressed, I’m taking you to school.” Derek said, casually looking at him over the top of the newspaper and Stiles glared in response. “Are you kidding me? I can drive myself, thanks, I don’t need a babysitter.” He shot back, crossing his arms petulantly. 

“Your father asked me to, especially considering that you’re sleep deprived. Sleep deprivation is as bad as being intoxicated.” 

Stiles glared some more, taking a hateful gulp of his coffee. He said nothing, turning and stomping up the stairs, displaying the full extent of his ire. Stupid wolf, trying to take care of people and shit. Treating him like he cared about his wellbeing and being a generally agreeable person, what the fuck? Stiles didn’t like a reasonable Derek, it made look like a dick when he complained about the alpha, and that was not okay. 

He dressed and finished the rest of his coffee, preparing himself for a day of exhaustion and misery. He came back down the stairs to see Derek standing by the door, frowning at his phone as he typed out a message. “I’ll be taking you to Deaton’s after school.”

Stiles shrugged, not willing to expend the energy that it would take to argue. Even Derek looked a little disturbed by Stiles’ acquiescence, but was smart enough not to comment, lest he tempt Stiles to answer back. 

The ride to school was silent, but surprisingly not awkward. Stiles slumped in his seat, nearly dozing off on the way there, but Derek let him play with the stereo, so he sleepily flipped through stations until he found something not horrible. He glanced at Derek to see if he found it acceptable and the wolf tilted his head in acceptance.

Eventually they got to the school and Derek sent him off with a “Be safe. Call me if anything happens, okay? Anything at all.” And Stiles turned to look at him, narrowing his eyes as he searched the wolf’s face. Derek’s face looked the most open and earnest that Stiles had ever seen, so he nodded dumbly, “Yeah. I promise.” And the tiny smile he got in return made something in his stomach clench, so he fled the car, trying not to trip on his way to the front doors. 

The school was oddly empty of his friends, and it was more than a little unsettling. Derek had mentioned that Boyd and Erica had returned, but they were taking a few days off of school and were considering just getting their GED’s since they’d missed more school than the rest of the wolves. 

However, Lydia and Jackson weren’t there either, so it was just him, Scott and Isaac, because Allison’s dad had kept her home too. But of course, Isaac wasn’t talking to Scott because apparently him and Derek had wolfy bonding time after the fight and he was mad at Scott. Which, so was Stiles, but Scott was still his best friend, so it was kind of complicated. 

“Hey man.” Stiles greeted, only to be met with Scott’s betrayed face. “What?” He asked, not sure why Scott looked like his puppy had been kicked. 

“Why do you smell like Derek?” He accused. 

Stiles looked at him incredulously, “Really? That’s why you look like someone pissed in your cornflakes?” He shook his head. “I had a busy weekend that included my dad finding out about werewolves and asking Derek to come look at case files.”

Scott still looked suspicious but he nodded. “My weekend sucked. Allison’s pissed at me.”

Stiles resigned himself to hearing about Allison for the next few hours and nodded encouragingly as they walked to class. “Did she say why?”

Scott nodded. “She’s mad that I went along with Gerard’s plan to be with her. She just doesn’t get it! He said I could have her if I helped him, and nothing bad happened! Everything went okay and I double-crossed him and saved everyone and I just don’t get why she’s so mad!” 

Stiles hadn’t really heard the full story of the story, but Derek had filled him in on the big stuff while they’d stayed up together, and he’d mentioned something about this, but Derek, understandably, hadn’t wanted to talk about being forced to bite Gerard and the betrayal that he’d felt. Stiles hadn’t pushed the issue. 

But now, hearing this, he figured Scott was lucky to be alive. “Dude, you’re an idiot.” 

“Hey-!”

“No really, man. Really? You thought you could just barter for Allison like she’s a piece of property? You really thought she’d be okay with that? No, dude, I’m with her on this one. She’s her own woman, and just because you got permission from Gerard, doesn’t mean that she has to date you. It was a dick move, buddy.” Stiles said with a shrug. He really wasn’t impressed with Scott’s decision-making skills as of late. 

“No, it wasn’t like that! Of course I respect her, but she doesn’t get that I did it all for her!” Scott insisted. 

Stiles shook his head. “Look, Scotty. I know you think it was a huge romantic gesture, but you hurt a lot of people that night. Allison, for one. But also Derek.” He frowned. “I know you don’t like him, and that’s fine. He annoys me on a good day. But you just don’t use people like that, Scott. Remember the conversation we had about Dumbledore and how using people as pawns is like, the dickest of moves? Especially when they think you’re on their side?”

“That’s completely different, though!” Scott protested. 

“How, exactly? You’re gonna tell me that what you did to Derek is any different to what Dumbledore did to Harry? You knew that if your plan didn’t work, Gerard would have killed him.” Stiles closed his eyes and sighed. “Look, I can’t talk about this now. I’m exhausted and I need to get to class, but you owe Derek an apology, at least. That’s all I’m gonna say.” He said, leaving Scott and his continuing protests behind. 

He knew Scott was going to be pissed at him but Stiles was too tired to care, which seemed to be an increasingly prevalent theme in his life. He didn’t like it. Isaac, however, who’d heard the argument, (as well as the dozens of students that had been in the hallway and had assumed Stiles was talking about a video game), made it a point to stick by Stiles’ side. He didn’t say anything, just walked Stiles to and from his classes all morning. 

Stiles finally called him on it at lunchtime when Isaac plastered himself to Stiles’ side. “Dude, what gives? You’re being creepy.” Isaac shrugged. “You’re pack. The rest of the pack isn’t here, so I’m with you.” 

Stiles frowned as he took a bite of his sandwich. “But I’m a human. I thought I couldn’t be pack?” Isaac shrugged again, “Apparently you can. Derek said that our pack bonds are pretty weak because we haven’t been accepting each other as packmates, so we spent the weekend bonding.” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes, “You guys were cuddling, weren’t you? A great big puppy pile, huh?” He teased. Isaac snorted, “Something like that. Derek was explaining that wolves are tactile animals and that we need reassurance that way or we start to feel neglected and isolated. So we spent most of Saturday that way, and he was right, it made us all feel closer.” 

“So what, one cuddle session and now you guys are all cool with each other?” Stiles asked skeptically. “No offense, but who would even cuddle with Peter? It’s like cuddling with a zombie, I’m sure.” 

“No, it’s more like reassuring touches. Derek said that the bonds should strengthen the more we keep at it. As for Peter…well, we just try to pat him on the shoulder sometimes. It’s still weird, though.” 

Just then, Scott arrived with his lunch and the awkward was nearly palpable. Isaac glared at Scott, who glared back, and Stiles just tried not to make eye contact with anyone. That is, until Isaac placed his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck and Scott let out a low growl. “Dude!” Stiles hissed at both of them. “Knock it off, whatever this is. Isaac, quit scent-marking me. Yeah, that’s right, I did my research.” He said in response to Isaac’s look of surprise and embarrassment at being caught out. “And Scott, quit growling. You’re not an alpha. You don’t have a pack. I can’t be a part of a pack that doesn’t exist, ergo, I’m not your pack.” Which, of course, only made Scott look like he was going to cry before picking up his lunch and leaving.

“I’m an ass.” Stiles groaned, putting his head in his hands as he leaned his elbows on the table. “So is Scott.” Isaac pointed out. “Fair.” Stiles agreed. “But it doesn’t mean I have to add complications to an already complicated mess. I don’t see why Scott is being deliberately obtuse about this.”

“Either he’s too proud to admit he screwed up, or he genuinely believes he did nothing wrong. I’m not sure which scenario I’d rather deal with.” Isaac mused. 

“Honestly? As Scott’s bro, I really want to say that he’s just being proud. But what scares me the most is that I think it’s the latter. I really think that he believes he’s right, and I don’t know how to deal with that.” Stiles said sadly, poking at the other half of his sandwich. He suddenly wasn’t very hungry. 

“You gonna eat that?” Stiles shook his head and handed the half over to Isaac who took a bite, chewing happily. “Mmm, boysenberry jam? I love boysenberry.” Stiles just smiled fondly patting the wolf on the shoulder. “I know. C’mon, we’ll be late to Chem, and I’ll probably fall asleep in class, but let’s not give Harris another reason to give me detention, yeah?” 

Scott was suspiciously absent for the rest of the day, making Stiles wonder if he’d gone home early, but when Derek picked him up, Scott’s bike was still in the parking lot, so who knows. Isaac had taken the bus to school, but he rode back with Derek and Stiles, who called shotgun immediately, banishing a pouting Isaac to the back seat. 

Derek gave them both a small smile when he picked them up, asking how their days were, and if they learned anything new. Stiles stared at him incredulously, wondering what was wrong with Derek because the Derek he knew didn’t ask teenagers about their day and try to make small talk with obviously rehearsed questions. 

So Stiles decided to put the guy out of his misery by doing what he did best: talking. “So Isaac here was telling me about your wolfy cuddle sessions and then he told me that I was pack and woah, when did that happen, big guy?” 

Derek made a constipated-looking face and glared at the road ahead of him, refusing to answer, but Stiles wasn’t deterred. “Because you know, if I’ve been part of the pack this whole time, then I feel like I’ve been cheated out of cuddle sessions and that’s really not cool.” He teased. Derek gave a very put-upon sigh and Isaac snickered from the backseat. 

“Yes, you’re a part of the pack.” Derek agreed tersely. 

“Yeah, got that part. But since when?”

“I don’t know. Things have been busy, I didn’t really notice.” 

Stiles raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “What, so I’m like some kind of pack ninja? Secretly becoming the member of a pack without anyone noticing?” 

Derek shrugged. “I don’t know how it happened, it just did.” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes, not buying it. He had the feeling that Derek knew exactly when he became pack and just didn’t want to tell him, and why could that be? Hmm. “Okay, so now that I’m pack, does that mean I get cuddle invites?” 

The constipated look increased, but after a moment, Derek let out a tense “Fine” and Stiles grinned in satisfaction.

They got to Deaton’s but someone was already there, so the three of them sat and waited. The lady across from them seemed to think that that two teenagers and a scowly adult looked suspicious because she wouldn’t stop glaring at them. Stiles attempted a nervous grin-and-wave that only made the lady purse her lips angrily and Derek elbowed him roughly to stop. 

Although, in hindsight, the most suspicious part was probably when Deaton appeared and ushered them into the back without a word. The woman seemed perturbed by this fact, but she was quickly forgotten. Stiles was here in the pursuit of knowledge and nothing could possibly distract him from that-

“Awww! Is that a kitten? It’s so tiny and cute!” He exclaimed, reaching out to pet its tiny head. Derek rolled his eyes, but Isaac was already next to him cooing over the kitten too. 

“She’s only a few weeks old. Her mother abandoned her, she was the runt of the litter.” Deaton explained. “She was nearly dead when I found her, but I’ve been nursing her back to health. She’ll be ready for adoption in a few weeks, I think.”

The tiny kitten was a steel gray color, and when she winked her eyes open, they were a bright honey color, not unlike Stiles’ own eyes. She leaned into Stiles’ touches and he smiled, wondering if he could convince his dad to let him adopt her. 

“Now, I’m sure there was a reason you came here, Mr. Stilinski, besides fawning over kittens.” Deaton prompted. 

“Oh yeah!” Stiles agreed. “So I did a weird thing last night and I’m not sure how I did it, but I’d really like it to stop because I couldn’t sleep, and I’d like to be able to do that before I pass out from exhaustion.”

Deaton nodded. “And what happened, exactly?”

“I started glowing, like really brightly. And closing my eyes didn’t help because my eyelids were giving off light too. So basically, every inch of my skin was glowing, but bright enough that I lit up my entire room.” He explained. 

Deaton hummed in thought. “Yes, I rather expected you’d be here today. Today’s news was a pretty obvious indicator, but I had to be sure.” 

“Be sure of what?” Stiles asked. 

“You’re a star.” Deaton said, crossing his arms.

“Aww thanks, Doc. I always knew you liked me.” Stiles said with a wide grin. Deaton gave him an unimpressed look and continued. 

“Sparks can manifest in different ways. Like I said, some sparks have the aptitude to become mages, druids, witches, or other practitioners of magic. You apparently have absorbed the energy from an entire star.” He explained. 

Stiles fidgeted, rubbing behind his ear. “But…wouldn’t that like, kill me? I mean, I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty sure that stars are fucking massive? And can’t actually fit inside a human…?” 

Deaton nodded patiently, “Typically, that would be correct. But that’s where the spark comes in. It’s complicated but it essentially provides a buffer between you and the power inside you. A conduit, if you will. A filter through which you can control and use the star’s energy safely.” He explained. “Of course, you’ll have to learn to control it, just like any other supernatural being.” 

Stiles’ stomach dropped at that. Control wasn’t exactly his forte alright? The whole ADHD thing? Yeah, kind of made focusing on anything like control hard. “Uhh, and how, exactly, would you propose I do that, Doc?” He asked skeptically. 

“Practice.” He replied with a shrug. “Hard work. Meditation. The same way you learn anything.” 

“Dude. You remember how well I did on the meditation thing before. I don’t really see that going much better this time around.” Stiles protested. 

“Practice will help you, Stiles. And you have an entire werewolf pack to help you learn control. In some ways, it might be easier for you since you won’t be working against a different set of instincts, just yourself.” Deaton explained. 

“Yeah. That’s not really that comforting. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of a handful.” Stiles said matter-of-factly. Derek snorted from where he stood against the wall, and Isaac just looked kind of smug. But then, he sort of always looked that way. 

“I’m aware, Mr. Stilinski, but I also have full confidence that you’ll succeed at this, provided you accept the help offered to you.” 

Stiles nodded slowly, not entirely convinced. ”O-okay…and uh, am I dangerous? Not having control yet, is it safe for me to be around people? Like, could I accidentally zap them with my star-powers?” He asked, suddenly worried for his dad and Scott and, shit, would he be able to go to school? What about lacrosse? 

Deaton frowned in thought, “I’m not sure. I don’t have much information on stars, they’re very rare. I would advise you against strong emotions, though. I suspect that your abilities might be triggered similarly to a werewolf’s.”

“Yeah, except, I wasn’t feeling particularly shiny when I started to glow. So that theory is probably shot.” 

Deaton nodded, “That’s true, and different shifters have different triggers, but I still firmly believe that the more you learn to control yourself, the more successful you’ll be at stopping, or at least muting the glowing.”

Stiles sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Okay, so there’s nothing you can do to help me?” He asked, somewhat defeated. 

“I’m afraid not. I’ll research what I can, but you must be careful. Stars are very rare, as in, there hasn’t been a star recorded for the past six hundred years at least. There are those who are paying attention, and will know that a star has manifested, and will want your power for themselves.”

Stiles groaned, and Derek glared murderously at Deaton. “How do we protect him?” He demanded

“You teach him control. Once he knows that, he can begin to train, and soon he will be able to protect himself. He is lucky in that most of the information on stars has been lost, and they have largely been relegated to legend. Also, there’s an entire world to search. You just need to keep a low profile. Especially at night, while you’re learning control.”

Stiles choked out a laugh, “Oh my god!” He exclaimed with glee, causing the others to look at him like he was insane. “Dude! I’m totally the beacon of Beacon Hills! I’m like, the town mascot! Holy shit, how cool is this?” Isaac rolled his eyes, Derek snorted, and even Deaton looked mildly amused.

“What? It’s totally true, don’t even try to deny it.” Stiles insisted. 

“Anyway.” Derek said, changing the subject. “We need to start working on your control as soon as possible.” 

Stiles groaned, “Can I at least take a nap first? In case you’ve forgotten, Sourwolf, I slept exactly zero hours last night. I’m running on fumes. I’m going to collapse any second.”

“Fine. Sleep. But the hours you’ll inevitably be awake when you start glowing again? We’ll be practicing.” He decided. 

Stiles nodded, he could probably live with that. “Okay, lets get me home then. I’m wasting precious daylight when I could be sleeping.” He said, walking towards the door. “Let’s go. Thanks for the help, Doc.” He called as he walked out the door, hoping the werewolves were following him. 

Derek dropped him off at home, saying that he’d be back at sundown and Stiles nodded in agreement. Derek left and Stiles climbed the stairs to his room, thoroughly exhausted and only succeeded in drawing the curtains before stripping down to his boxers and falling into bed. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :) I need to issue an apology because this is taking me so long. I live in California, but I'm in the process of moving back to Texas, which involves a ton of packing and getting rid of a lot of our stuff. So things are pretty hectic, and most of my time is spent packing and sorting through stuff (we're a bunch of packrats, so there's a lot to deal with). Plus, we're driving back, so that'll be a couple more days, and I'm not sure how long it'll take to get the internet set up. Sooooo I'll be writing whenever I can, and hopefully when I have internet access again, I'll have more chapters for you guys!   
> So please be patient with me, it's gonna be a process, but I'm just letting you know that even thought it may be awhile between updates, I'm not abandoning this, not by a long shot!   
> ♥
> 
>  
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](221bjohnlock-street.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY  
> I know it's been like, forever and a half since I've updated last. We moved back to Texas, and the internet sucks (I nearly thought I'd have to post this from my phone). We have to have satellite internet, since the cable ends like, 2.5 miles away? Yep. But anyway, it's pretty great here, we're working as missionaries, actually, and the campus deals with missionary training mostly, but we're also trying to start a transitional home for women, which mom is going to be the house mother for. Meanwhile, I've been babysitting and learning how to milk goats and make cheese! Seriously, I could wax poetic about how great it is, but I won't because I'm sure you want to get back to the story. SO, if you're curious, I'll answer pretty much any question you have, and if not, that's cool too :) 
> 
> And now, onwards! :D

Derek had dropped off Isaac at home and then had gone to run errands. Isaac hadn’t asked. He entered the living room to see Boyd and Erica sprawled across the floor, studying. “What’s this?” He asked. 

“Derek got us GED study guides, so we’re going over them.” Erica explained. “We talked it over with Derek and we decided that even though we’d prefer to just be normal students, it’d be easier to just get our diplomas than try to go through all the make-up work we’d have to do.” She said with a shrug. 

Isaac nodded and sat down next to them, lowering his backpack to the floor and grabbing his homework. “Might as well have pack homework time, then.” He suggested, and Boyd scooted some papers out of the way to make room for him. “Sure. Welcome to the Werewolf Study Group.” Boyd joked with a small smile. 

It was a little weird for awhile, everyone working on their individual tasks before Erica leaned over towards Issac, “Hey, you’re pretty good at English, right?” She asked and he nodded. “Can you help me with this, then?” 

“Sure.” Isaac agreed, and slowly the awkwardness started to dissipate. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad. Homework even seemed to go by faster as a group, and soon the afternoon sun was creeping lazily through the window as the sun began to set. 

“The full moon is in a couple weeks.” Isaac pointed out and Erica frowned, “I hope we’re not going to be locked up again. That really sucked.” Boyd nodded in agreement. 

“We can talk to Derek about it. We have some time to prepare, so maybe if we can find our anchors by then we can skip the restraints.” Boyd suggested. “I’ve already been thinking about my anchor but I haven’t tested it.” 

Erica nodded, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it too, but it’s hard, you know? Derek said it had to be something powerful enough to make you want to hold onto your humanity, to stay in control. But it’s hard to think of something, you know? Like, yeah, I want to be in control because I’d rather not go on some murdering spree, but maybe that just doesn’t scare me enough to try to stay human.” She shrugged. 

“I feel the same.” Isaac agreed. “I mean, not so much the murdering spree, but I’m just scared that I’ll be the last one to find an anchor and that I’ll be a disappointment.” He confessed quietly. “I mean, Derek said that even Jackson had an anchor—Lydia—and that’s why he stopped being the kanima.”

Erica shook her head, “He’s a piece of work, I’ll tell you. You think he’ll try to join the pack?” She asked. 

“You know Derek will accept if he asks.” Boyd pointed out. 

“Yeah, but he’d actually have to accept Derek as alpha for that to happen.” Isaac countered. “I mean, he’s a decent team player on the field, but you really think he’d submit to Derek?” 

Erica scoffed, “If he thinks it makes him better than McCall, maybe. Those two have a grudge against each other wider than the Grand Canyon. If he realizes he’s stronger in a pack than out of it, then he’ll either submit to be stronger than Scott or he’ll try to kill Derek to gain his alpha powers.” 

“No, he’s all talk. He wouldn’t want the responsibility that comes with being leader.” Boyd disagreed. “But I think you’re right about him. He likes the power, and the chance to be better than McCall? He’s matured a lot these last months, but not that much.” 

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Isaac agreed. “He’s been through a lot, I think he’s gotten his priorities shuffled a little. As much as he can be a dick, he’d probably be a good pack member.” 

Erica shrugged, “He’s insecure. I can smell that shit a mile away. That’s why he acts like a dick all the time. We all deal with insecurities differently. I tried to disappear, he overcompensates. Hell, he’s probably just like us underneath the douchey exterior, and belonging to a pack might help him the same way that it’s helping us. I mean, werewolves and the supernatural aside, it’s pretty nice to have a group, you know? No more eating lunch alone, for one.” She said with a grin, nudging Isaac’s shoulder with her own. 

Isaac gave a shy smile in return, “That’s one perceptive lady you’ve got there, Boyd.” He teased, but Boyd just chuckled and nodded, “It’s like becoming a human lie detector has only encouraged her.” 

“Oh shut up, you all love me.” 

“Yeah, we do.”

……

 

Stiles slept deeply, drooling on his pillow and starfished on his bed. However, it wasn’t long after the sun went down that Stiles started to glow again, and was rudely awakened from his slumber by the light that assaulted his eyes. He groaned and rolled over, wiping the drool from his mouth and blinking sleepily. He tried to focus on the now illuminated room, and then yelped and flailed out of bed as he caught sight of Derek…in his desk chair. 

“Dude! What the fuck?” He cried from where he fell on the floor. “Why are you in my room?” He demanded. 

“I was waiting for you to wake up. I told you I’d be coming.” He explained, seemingly unbothered by Stiles’ antics. 

“I didn’t realize that meant giving me a heart attack in the process.” He griped, getting back up and blushing when he remembered he was only wearing boxers. Batman boxers, but that wasn’t the point. He walked over to his dresser and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

“Okay, so how are we gonna do this? Are you just gonna try to piss me off and then I need to try not to zap you with my star powers?” He asked and Derek shook his head.

“No, I figured we’d start by trying to turn off your…light.” He said, gesturing at Stiles. 

“Okay cool, but how about food first? I haven’t had dinner.”

Derek sighed, but acquiesced. 

……

 

Stiles made a huge stack of grilled cheese sandwiches and they sat in front of the television to eat them. Stiles flipped through the channels, but they were all showing the same thing: the news. Apparently the disappearance of a star had garnered worldwide attention and the world as a whole was flipping its shit. 

“Fuck.” Stiles breathed as the reporter interviewed some religious leader that was explaining prophecies that signaled the coming of the apocalypse. Of course, Stiles was about 12% sure that his starry-ness wasn’t heralding the end of the world. However, at least he got to find out which star exactly was missing, and once he did, he burst out laughing. 

“Oh my god! This is just too perfect. Holy shit. It’s like the universe has a fantastic sense of humor!” 

Derek merely raised an eyebrow in his direction. 

“Dude, don’t you get it? The missing star is a dwarf star. Specifically Sirius B. As in the companion star to Sirius? The dog star? In the fucking DOG constellation?! It Sirius-ly could not get more perfect. Get it? Sirius?” Stiles explained excitedly. 

Derek sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just what we needed. More puns.” He lamented. 

“Don’t even front, you love my puns.” He teased, nudging Derek with his elbow and then offering him another sandwich, which he took. 

“I’d love it more if you didn’t try to make a joke out of a very serious and dangerous situation.”

Stiles couldn’t help but snicker at the use of ‘serious’ which only made Derek glare at him harder. “Don’t you dare.” He warned, but Stiles only burst into laughter. 

“I can’t help it! There’s just a wealth of pun material here, and it’d be _cosmically_ irresponsible of me not to take advantage of this _bright_ opportunity while I have the _space_ to do so.” 

Derek groaned, reaching over to take the remote and shut off the television. “That’s it. You’re done. We’re starting your training now before anything else happens, or worse, you come up with more puns.” 

“Why so Sirius, Derek?” Stiles asked, cackling madly. Derek, to his credit, just tossed a throw pillow at Stiles’ face, but otherwise didn’t dignify it with a response. 

 

……

 

“Training” ended up being sitting cross-legged on the living room floor opposite from each other and Derek trying to make him concentrate on turning off the glowing. Stiles, for his part, didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. 

“Just focus, Stiles!” Derek said with exasperation. To which Stiles threw his hands in the air, “I am! But it’s not working! I’m thinking about darkness, the darkest of thoughts, and I’m still—” He waved his still-glowing arms for emphasis. “It’s hopeless. I’m going to be a walking spotlight for the rest of my life until creepy witches come and try to steal my magical spleen!” He cried. “I like my spleen! We’ve had some good times together. Good, alive times that won’t happen anymore because I’ll be dead!”

Derek took a deep breath, wishing for patience before he strangled the skinny seventeen year old in front of him. “Look. You obviously managed to get in touch with your spark before, since you activated it. So just find it again.”

“You think it’s that easy? I don’t even know what I felt! It was just like a light behind my eyes, but guess what, now that light is fucking everywhere and I don’t know how to stop it!” He argued. 

“Just…try it again.” 

“Fine.” Stiles huffed. 

More focusing. Stiles was so fucking done. He was still tired and every moment that he couldn’t turn off the light only made him more frustrated and anxious. Was he going to be stuck like this forever? Would he have to become nocturnal permanently? Well he’d certainly save on lighting costs…no, focus. We’re focusing, Stiles chided himself. 

He tried to do what he’d done in Deaton’s office, looking for that ball of light to poke, but everything was so bright he couldn’t distinguish the ball of light from anything else. That is, assuming that the ball was in any way still present, which Stiles wasn’t entirely sure about. He wondered if maybe things would be different if he hadn’t passed out right after unlocking his spark. 

“Stiles…” Derek began quietly. “Maybe if you talked through what you did before…?” He trailed off. 

Stiles sighed, opening his eyes from where they’d been screwed shut in concentration. “Okay, yeah, it’s worth a shot.” He agreed tiredly and settled into a more comfortable position. “Basically I could see like, a ball of light in my mind. And I gave it a mental poke? I know that sounds pretty weird. But now there’s light everywhere, so I can’t find the ball of light to try and poke it back.” He explained. 

Derek frowned, but nodded in thought. “What if…this glowing, is that ball of light?” He hedged. 

Stiles rubbed at his eyes but nodded, “That’s not a terrible idea, actually. Makes more sense than trying to find a light-needle in a light-stack.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” 

“Yes it does, shut up.” He countered, and went back to his concentration. This time, he tried to imagine all the light he saw behind his eyelids as a close-up of the ball of light and then tried to imagine pushing it back, like if he was trying to get far enough to see all of it at once. The effort began to give him a headache, and he quickly lost track of time, but he managed enough concentration to give it a tiny nudge backwards, immediately dimming the light he was giving off. Not by much, but it was progress. 

“Derek!” He exclaimed happily, opening his eyes to meet the equally excited gaze of the werewolf. “You did it.” He praised.

“Not yet, not all the way, but you were totally right! I’m trying to nudge it back into a ball, but it’s giving me one hell of a headache.” He complained, rubbing at his temples. 

“Come here.” Derek instructed, and scooted closer to Stiles. Stiles looked at him, a question in his eyes, but Derek ignored it, instead moving to place one hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, drawing the pain. 

“Woah…” Stiles sighed. “Oh god that’s so good.” He moaned softly, leaning into the werewolf’s touch. His headache was as good as gone, and he never wanted to lose that blissful feeling. Once the fog of the headache cleared, Stiles couldn’t help but notice that technically Derek was scent-marking him, and the thought made him feel oddly pleased. It was like getting confirmation of what Isaac had said—Stiles was pack. He wondered absently if that was going to make him crave touch the same way the other werewolves seemed to. 

They stayed that way probably longer than was strictly necessary, but eventually the sound of the front door opening caused them to separate slowly. Stiles’ father entered, and took a look at the both of them sitting on the floor and nodded. “Stiles looks a little dimmer than last night, or is it my imagination?” He asked, hanging up his gun belt. 

“Yeah, I just barely managed to dim it a little before you walked in. Derek’s been pretty helpful, I was getting frustrated.” Stiles explained. 

John nodded, “That’s good. I’m going to grab something to eat.”

“Okay, what time is it, anyway?”

“It’s a little after one in the morning.” John answered. “I would have been back sooner, but one of the officers is out with the flu, so I covered half his shift.” He explained. 

“Okay. Hey dad, how do you feel about cats?”

Derek suppressed a smirk, having known that Stiles would want to adopt the kitten the minute that he’d set eyes on her. 

“Regular cats or supernatural cats?” John asked, raising an eyebrow. “Which isn’t a question I ever thought I’d have to ask.” 

“Just a normal, cute, adorable, cuddly cat of awesomeness.” Stiles clarified. “She’s beautiful and just a kitten and her mom abandoned her and Deaton’s taking care of her but he said that I could adopt her in a few weeks.” 

John crossed his arms and met Stiles’ wide, hopeful eyes. “Deaton said that?” 

“Yes! Well, not that I, specifically, could adopt her. But he said he was putting her up for adoption…” 

John eyed Stiles critically. “And you think you can care for a cat on top of school, your friends, and your magic stuff?” He asked. 

“Yes, I think so. I mean, I’m pretty responsible, and every wizard needs a familiar, right? Loki could be that for me!” He said excitedly. 

“Loki? You’ve already named her?” John asked, incredulously. “Stiles…”

“No, dad, please? We have a connection. I petted her head and she leaned into me and I love her, dad.” Stiles pleaded with wide eyes. 

His father sighed. “I can’t believe I’m allowing this. Fine. You’re going to be completely responsible for her, though. I don’t want to hear that she’s being neglected or that you’re neglecting any of your other responsibilities, okay?”

Stiles nodded seriously. “Of course, dad.” He agreed.

“Good. Now, what did Dr. Deaton say about your spark and the glowing?” He asked. 

“Oh! So apparently I’m a star.”

“A star? I wouldn’t suppose this has anything to do with the fact that the world seems to think that the apocalypse is upon us?” He asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Actually yes. I absorbed a star? Deaton doesn’t have much information because this hasn’t happened for hundreds of years and I’m supposed to be a legend, which is great and all, but also sucks because we’re sort of flying blind. Oh, and people might want to ritually sacrifice me to take my powers, so there’s that.” 

“I think I need a drink.” 

……

 

Several drinks and a couple hours later and Stiles managed to explain everything with occasional interjections from Derek. “Okay, so the first priority is getting you to stop glowing like a very literal beacon—no, no puns right now, Stiles—because we don’t need to call any supernatural beings who know what’s going on to us. Personally, I like having an unsacrificed son, so let’s try to keep that in mind, shall we?”

“Right. And for the record, I’m not too keen on sacrifices either. I like my spleen.” Stiles agreed, which of course elicited a confused and worried look from his father, but Derek shook his head in a “you don’t want to know” sort of way, so John didn’t pursue it. 

“Alright, well I think I’m going to head off to bed, we’ll talk more later. In the meantime, you two should keep practicing, at least until Stiles is dim enough to be able to sleep.” He said, and Stiles nodded.

“Now that I know how to do it, it should be easier.” He agreed, and didn’t mention that with Derek taking his headaches, progress should go even faster. Assuming he still would. Stiles hoped he would. 

John nodded in satisfaction, “Good. In that case, good night you two, hopefully you’ll be able to get some sleep tonight.” They said their good nights and John went to his room, closing the door behind him. 

“Okay, let’s see if I can get this thing down, yeah?” Stiles asked, moving back to the floor where they’d been sitting before. Derek nodded and followed, sitting minutely closer than he had before. Stiles told himself this was so he could reach him better when he inevitably got a headache again. 

Stiles repeated what he’d done before, closing his eyes and focusing on the ball of light, pushing it back into his mind. However, whereas the first nudge hadn’t been too difficult, it was like he was pushing against a tightly coiled spring. Every nudge was harder than the last, but the light dimming encouraged him, even as his head began to pound and his breaths came harshly as he panted with the exertion. Just as he was about to give up, if only to lessen the pressure pounding against his skull, he felt a warm hand against the side of his neck, Derek’s thumb grazing just beneath his ear. The pain immediately lessened, and Stiles leaned into the touch, pushing against the ball with renewed determination. 

Those last few pushes were the hardest, and Stiles knew that if it weren’t for Derek, he wouldn’t have been able to do it. Still, he focused all his mental energy on that one task and with a last mighty mental shove, he pushed the spark back to where it had been before he’d activated it. He took a moment to breathe, a wide grin splitting his face as he realized he couldn’t see any more light. 

“I did it…” He breathed and the hand on his neck squeezed gently, “You did.” Stiles opened his eyes and met Derek’s, which were shining with pride and exhaustion. Stiles stayed that way until he felt it was getting awkward, then he stretched his arms to the side, arching his back as he stretched sore muscles. Derek pulled back, and Stiles didn’t miss the touch. He didn’t. 

“I suppose that means I can go to sleep for—” he glanced at the time on his phone, “—four more hours before it’s time to get up. Yay. Guess four is better than none.” He said, standing up. He yawned widely and Derek didn’t stare at his mouth. He didn’t. 

“Thanks for the help, Derek. Couldn’t have done it without you.” He said with a grin, nudging his shoulder. “Of course.” Derek answered. “Anytime. Although preferably the next time you have a crisis, if you could do so in the daytime, that’d be great.” He said, but Stiles could tell he was teasing. Weird how he’d managed to pick up on that in the time they’d known each other. 

“Sure thing, Sourwolf. In fact, let’s keep all future supernatural shenanigans to the daylight hours, yeah?” He teased right back, prompting Derek to roll his eyes. “Go to bed, Stiles.” 

“Yeah, yeah. The guest room is still yours. Good night, Canis Majoris.” He said, waving a hand in Derek’s general direction as he trudged up the stairs to his room. The werewolf snorted but otherwise didn’t comment, heading to the guest bedroom. “Good night, Stiles.” He heard right before Derek shut the door. For some stupid reason, it made him smile. 

……

 

Lydia awoke in the dead of the night, gasping and choking as she tried to fill her lungs with air. Next to her, Jackson woke up, confused and disoriented. “Wha-? What’s wrong…?” He asked groggily, but there was no reply. Lydia sat up, wrapping her arms around knees that she drew up to her chest. Her face was tear-streaked and her eyes were wild and scared. Jackson, now a little more awake, sat up next to her. “Hey…what is it…?” He asked gently, softly. He tentatively raised a hand and placed it on her bare shoulder, relieved when she relaxed into the touch. 

“That’s it…come here…” He encouraged, wrapping her trembling form in his arms as she cried against him. He held her until the shudders abated, until her cries became shallow sobs and she wiped at her eyes with a shaky hand. Jackson knew better than to ask her if she was okay, it was obvious that she wasn’t. “What happened?” He whispered instead and she took in a shaky breath. 

“Nightmare…but worse…” She answered, clinging even tighter to Jackson. He smoothed a hand down her back, clutching her protectively. “I’ve got you…” He promised. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?” And she nodded, leaning into him. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked her and she stilled, contemplating it. After a moment, she nodded again. 

“I saw a man…it was so blurry, I could barely see him, but he was standing in front of a fire.” She began quietly, and Jackson let her speak without interruptions. “He had this wild look in his eyes…and he…he killed them all, Jackson, all of them…” She said. “Scott and Isaac and Derek and Boyd and Erica and You and…and…” She broke off, burying her face in his shoulder as she started sobbing again. He held her tightly, hushing her and rocking her slowly, whispering reassurances in the dead of night, promises and platitudes. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a nightmare like this, but it was the first time that the deaths had been those of people she knew. 

Jackson knew that there wasn’t anything he could do about the nightmares, so he tried to be content with his ability to provide her with this comfort at least. His wolf, however, made him want to run and tear to bits anyone that made Lydia this upset. He’d rip that man’s throat out if it meant that Lydia could sleep at night. He’d do it in a heartbeat. 

Eventually Lydia’s cries evened out and her sobs stopped, and Jackson looked down to smooth her hair out of her face and confirm that she was, in fact asleep. Carefully, he rearranged her in the bed, tucking her against his chest and curling his arms around her form, as if he could protect her from her own mind just by sheer force of will. 

He barely slept, keeping silent vigil over her, ready to wake her if he saw a single hint that she might be slipping back into the nightmare, but she never did. The next morning, she’d berate him for having stayed awake watching her sleep, but her eyes would betray her gratefulness. He’d gripe and complain that he was tired, but she’d know that he’d do it all again for her. 

So she’ll bring him a coffee with extra espresso shots, and they’ll bicker all day, but at the end, he’ll be the one that holds her in the stillness of night when she’s haunted by visions of death and destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](221bjohnlock-street.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Update! The internet is doing moderately better, hence the update. I have a couple more chapters already written, so fear not, dear readers :)   
> In case you care to know, life has been pretty good lately even with the water system crapping out on us. We have to pump the groundwater ourselves, and then filter it through Reverse-Osmosis, since the groundwater is brackish? So yeah, there are membranes that have to be replaced, etc. So in the meantime we're conserving what little water we have. Luckily, we can use the groundwater for toilet flushing, so there's that! But yeah, if this keeps up, I'm going to look into solar stills so that we can purify the brackish water into drinkable water. Because it's so salty and full of heavy metals, it smells kinda like blood, no joke (even though no one else seems to agree with me? Whatever. I know what I'm smelling). 
> 
> Anyway, that's what going on with me! Now without further ado: the chapter......!!

Derek was already awake by the time that Stiles rolled out of bed and made his way downstairs. Derek was sitting at the table with the Sheriff and they seemed to be engaged in a conversation that Derek was clearly uncomfortable with. “…just think about what I said, okay?” John prompted and Derek nodded halfheartedly. 

“Heeey…” Stiles ventured. “Good morning dad, Derek. What’s up?” He asked, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. 

“Not much, I’m just trying to convince Derek here that it might be a good idea to find a place to live that has been inspected recently and found to be structurally sound. Especially if he plans on having teenagers visit frequently.” John explained, glancing at Derek pointedly, who huffed in exasperation. 

“No, no, Sourwolf, that’s a good idea, actually.” Stiles agreed around a mouthful of cereal, gesturing with his spoon. “I mean, it helps to be in the woods because werewolves, but have you thought about renovating? And maybe staying someplace in the meantime?” He asked. 

Resigning himself to the conversation, Derek nodded. “I’ve thought about it, but it would be a massive undertaking. I wouldn’t want to fix it, but tear it down and build something different. I don’t think I could stand to actually live there otherwise.” He said softly. 

Stiles nodded understandingly, “Yeah, I get you. I probably wouldn’t either. But I agree with dad, you need a new base of operations because how else are we gonna have pack nights without electricity and running water?” He asked. 

“Pack nights-?” Derek asked with wide eyes that seemed to grow more scared with every passing moment as Stiles got increasingly enthusiastic.

“Yeah! Y’know, for pack bonding purposes? We can have sleepovers and movie nights and game nights and spend holidays together and have pack dinners-”

“Alright, son, we get the picture.” John interjected. “Don’t scare Derek off just yet.” He teased. “It was just a suggestion, and it’s still Derek’s decision what to do, but…” he addressed Derek, “…if you need help with anything, I have some contacts in the construction industry that might be helpful. And I’m sure Stiles wouldn’t mind researching apartments and other properties for you in the meantime.” 

Derek nodded slowly, hesitantly. “Thank you…I appreciate it. And I’ll let you know. I should probably discuss it with the pack.” 

Stiles hummed in agreement, mouth full as he chewed. “Dude.” He said when his mouth was empty, “Should I come to the pack meeting? I mean, I know you said I was pack, but I’m not a wolf, so I don’t know if you want me at the meetings, I mean, I know I kind if annoy you so it’s cool if not, but I gotta know so I can be prepa-”

“Stiles.” Derek cut him off with a small smile, “Of course you’re welcome to any and all pack meetings. I…I’d like it if you were able to make it.” He managed not to look like the admission was painful, so Stiles decided it was sincere. 

“Alright. Thanks.” He said, not actually having expected to be included in all the werewolf goings-on. 

John nodded, “Good. Glad that’s settled. Now, are you planning on telling anybody about Stiles’…condition?” He asked. 

“Jeez, dad, you don’t need to make it sound like I’ve got some sort of disease.” Stiles complained. “That’s the last thing I need, a rumor about how I have some rare, deadly disease that’s probably contagious. Hey! Do you think I can use it as an excuse to get out of Harris’ class…?” He asked hopefully. 

“No.” Derek said sternly before John could answer. “And I think the pack should know, since I think we’ve all seen what happens when secrets are kept by people on the same side…” he said bitterly. “…but I’ll also let them know that it’s not to be discussed outside of the pack, since it seems that Stiles’ life could depend on it.” 

“That’s reasonable.” John agreed. “And for future reference, who counts as ‘pack’?” It was a valid question, one that Stiles wasn’t all that sure about anymore. 

Derek sighed as if he was thinking the same thing at Stiles. “For sure? Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and Stiles. Peter…is tolerated, but there’s no point in trying to hide things from him, it’ll only offend him when he finds out, and that’s not something we need right now.” He said. “Jackson is welcome, of course, should he choose to accept me as his alpha. And as his anchor, Lydia is welcome as well.” Derek took a deep breath, “And Scott has made his decision perfectly clear. He is not pack.” 

There was a tense silence following that statement, but no one said anything to contradict it. John looked vaguely disappointed, but not in Derek; Stiles looked furious, and Derek just looked like a kicked puppy. Stiles leaned over and placed a single hand on Derek’s shoulder, not saying anything. Derek didn’t look up, but some of the tension in his shoulders dissipated. John spared the two of them a glance, but didn’t say anything. 

After a few moments, the silence was broken by Stiles getting up to put his bowl in the sink and Derek said he needed to get going, making up some excuse. No one stopped him. “You good to drive to school today?” John asked Stiles. 

“Yeah, I’m feeling much better today, and I actually got to sleep, so that’s something. I’ll be fine.” 

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.” John agreed. 

……

 

Stiles wasn’t ready to see Scott again, especially after the conversation at breakfast. Which is exactly why he was the first person Stiles saw as he walked into school. He had no idea what to say to Scott, even if he wanted to talk to him. Stiles was hurt, first and foremost by the fact that Scott hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him the plan. 

Of course, if he’d told Stiles, Stiles would have immediately vetoed the plan because it was absolutely insane and stupid. But then there was the fact that even after all the bullshit with Allison or some member of her family trying to kill them and literally all their friends, Scott was still trying to get back together with her. Stiles had had enough. There was only so far that ‘true love’ could take you, and at this rate, Scott was going to get himself killed. 

And then there was what he did to Derek. But Stiles wasn’t going to think about that right now, because he wasn’t sure what his star powers would do if he flew into a blinding rage right now, and frankly, he didn’t want to find out. Better to save that for an actual life-or-death situation, and not the middle of the hallway. 

Unsurprisingly, Scott didn’t try to talk to him, which was really for the better. However, the sad puppy eyes were going to get really old, really fast. 

Jackson and Lydia were back, but they both seemed tired, and the bags beneath Lydia’s eyes were so dark that even her makeup couldn’t hide them completely. The strangest thing, though, was how subdued Jackson was. Sure, he was still kind of an asshole, still made snide remarks, but the heat had gone out of it. It was like he said the words out of habit, but didn’t seem to mean them anymore. 

At lunch, however, they sat with Isaac and Stiles, Scott was nowhere to be found. Danny was out sick with the flu, so he wasn’t there to join them. 

“Hey, Lydia. How are you doing?” Stiles asked, concerned about both their appearances. 

The question made Lydia look distinctly uncomfortable, and Jackson growled softly at Stiles for making her feel that way. Stiles raised his hands in an innocent gesture and he stopped growling, but only after Lydia shook her head at him and smiled sadly. “I’ve been having nightmares.” She said softly. “Every night, almost, about people dying. Sometimes I know them, but most of the time I don’t.” She explained. “Jackson has been helping.” 

Jackson had ended up fighting with his parents about the London issue, and eventually they had come to a compromise. His parents were moving to London, but Jackson was going to be emancipated, and had been living with Lydia and her never-home parents. It ended up working out well for the couple, and Lydia was comforted by the knowledge that she didn’t have to sleep alone in an empty house.

Stiles hummed sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve had nightmares too after finding out about the whole supernatural thing, but nothing like that.” 

Isaac faced the pair, looking at them curiously, “Have you two thought about what you’re going to do?” He asked, deliberately vague. 

Lydia gave him a tired look, “You’re going to have to be more specific. I’ve thought about many things I’m going to do, most of which aren’t any of your business.” 

“Are you going to try to join the pack?” He asked bluntly, and Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Maybe.” Jackson muttered, looking down at his lunch. Lydia nodded, “The thought has crossed our minds. We’re going to speak with Derek about it and decide about it later. When is your next pack meeting?” She asked. 

Isaac frowned, “Restricted to pack only.” He said curtly.

“What Isaac means is that we need to discuss things that are, basically, classified. It’d really be best for you to get in touch with Derek and arrange a meeting some other time.” Stiles amended. 

Lydia leveled him with a steely glare before rolling her eyes and going back to her lunch. “Whatever. We’ll talk to him later then.” And continued on as if that hadn’t just been supremely awkward. 

……

 

Derek had in fact texted the pack to let them know that there was going to be a meeting after school. Originally they were going to meet at the Hale house, but Stiles offered his own house instead for a number of reasons. For one, it was way more comfortable, no offense Derek. Second, it had snacks and food and drinks. Again, no offense Derek. And third, the Sheriff wanted to meet the pack and introduce himself (also to keep an eye on Peter, who would undoubtedly show up, and make sure he wasn’t causing trouble). 

Which meant that after school, the house was filled with almost a half dozen werewolves…and Stiles. 

“Alright, this meeting of Werewolves Anonymous is officially called to order!” Stiles announced, causing numerous eye-rolls and unimpressed sighs. “Alright, jeez, tough crowd. Whatever, Derek, it’s all yours. Do your thing.” He said, sitting on the couch. It was cozy without feeling cramped, as Peter took an armchair, Erica and Boyd curled up on one end of the couch, and Stiles and Isaac sat on the floor, and the Sheriff sat on the armrest of the unoccupied side of the couch, all facing Derek who stood in front of the television. 

“Okay. We have several things to discuss.” He began. “First of all, we need a pack den. I haven’t decided what to do about the Hale house, but in the meantime, it’s not really a suitable place to live, nor is the train depot. So I’ll be looking for someplace big enough that any and all of you can stay over during the full moon, and as Stiles suggested, during “pack nights.”” 

Erica started to look gleeful at the prospect of pack nights, and she fist-bumped Stiles in approval. “Way to go, Batman! Movie marathons, junk food, sleepovers…it’s gonna be great!” Stiles fist-bumped her back and nodded enthusiastically. Derek was so struck by the sight of his pack’s support (okay, sure, technically they were supporting Stiles, but still, progress right?) that he didn’t have the heart to regain their attention, not when Erica looked that happy, and Stiles that proud of himself. 

“Anyway…” He continued, “…if anyone wants to help with that, that’d be appreciated.” He said, remembering the Sheriff’s words about accepting help from the rest of the pack. “But there’s actually a much more pressing issue we need to address. I’m sure you’ve all seen the news reports about a missing star?” He asked. 

Peter looked knowingly smug and it made Stiles want to punch him in the face. From the look on Derek’s face, he wasn’t alone in this sentiment. The others nodded hesitantly, not sure where Derek was headed with this information. If Stiles had to guess, he’d say they probably thought it was going to be related to some new monster they’d have to fight. 

“Now, the information that we’re going to discuss can’t leave this room, understood? No one outside of this pack can discover what I’m about to tell you.” He said solemnly, waiting for everyone to nod their agreement before continuing, starting at the beginning so that everyone was on the same page. “Dr. Deaton told Stiles that he had a spark, and that that spark could manifest into stronger magic. Stiles wanted to know more, and in doing so was able to activate his spark-”

“Holy shit! You’re a wizard, Stiles!” Erica interrupted, causing a round of chuckles as Stiles grinned at her. “Not a wizard, no. That’s the best part!” 

Derek cleared his throat to regain their attention. “As I was saying, magic can manifest in different ways, but in this case, Deaton has informed us that Stiles absorbed the energy of a star.” 

“What.” Isaac deadpanned. “You expect me to believe Stiles is a celestial body?” 

“Oh please, you know you wanna piece of my celestial body.” Stiles teased with a cocky wink, causing his father to groan and smack him on the back of the head as Isaac rolled his eyes. Erica turned to size him up, looking him up and down until Boyd interrupted her ogling with a sharp pinch to her ass. “Ow!” She complained without heat. “Jerk.” 

Derek sighed heavily. Teenagers. Honestly. “Unfortunately that means that Stiles is in mortal peril.” He said dryly, drawing confused looks from the rest of the pack as they quieted down. Satisfied, he continued, “Absorbing a star is very rare and it hasn’t happened for hundreds of years. The good news is that most people don’t know about it, and those that do, think it’s a legend. The bad news is that not only does this limit our knowledge on the subject, but it also means that the few people that know it’s not a legend, now are going to be scouring the world, looking for the star. Our advantage is that no one knows who the star is, and we need to keep it that way.” 

The younger wolves nodded, wide-eyed and worried. Stiles was actually touched to see the concern in their eyes as he realized that yes, they did in fact consider him pack. He supposed that he hadn’t truly accepted that possibility until now, that they’d rather stick up for him than give him up to the powers of darkness, as it were. That realization didn’t make him tear up. It didn’t. Shut up. 

Before he knew it, though, Erica was tugging him up onto the couch and sitting in his lap as Boyd curled an arm around him and Isaac cuddled up to his other side. Stiles tensed at first, but the sense of togetherness erased any lingering doubts he had and he relaxed into the contact. Even Derek came around to sit on the coffee table and place a hand on Stiles’ knee. John looked vaguely concerned, but at Stiles’ lack of protest, he leaned over to run his hand through Stiles’ hair. Peter was the only one who didn’t try to make physical contact with Stiles, which was probably for the best, considering their track record together. 

“We’re not gonna let them take our Batman.” Erica said, snuffling into Stiles’ neck. He huffed a watery laugh, “Thanks guys, I…that means a lot.” He admitted. They were silent for a while longer, just holding Stiles close until they heard his heartbeat and breathing even out, then they began to draw back, giving him space. Erica scooted back into Boyd’s lap, but left her feet draped over Stiles’ lap, and Isaac stayed close.

Derek let them have a few minutes before dragging their attention back to the meeting. “So Stiles is going to be training; he needs to learn as much about his star as possible. His powers, his limitations, that sort of thing. Most importantly, though, how to hide it from people looking for him.” 

“What does he have to hide, exactly? He hasn’t grown an additional head, and he doesn’t really smell that different.” Boyd asked, brow furrowed. 

Stiles cleared his throat, “I uh…glow. At night.” He explained. Erica’s eyes lit up with interest and Stiles groaned internally. “I managed to turn it off last night, but it really took a lot out of me, so I need to get that part down before I can start to move onto exploring what else I can do.” 

Erica shifted excitedly, “So when does it happen, exactly? Like, in the dead of night, or at sundown?” She asked. “Also, how bright are you?”

Derek looked like he wanted to scowl at all the questions, but Stiles intervened before he could start yelling. “Sundown. Pretty much as soon as you’d usually start seeing stars in the sky usually, that’s when I start to glow.” He said. “I’m not sure how bright I am exactly. Bright enough that I can’t sleep, and bright enough that I’d be a literal beacon to anyone trying to find me if I was outside at night.” He explained. 

Erica nodded, “Okay, so we’re all sticking around to see that happen, right? Because there’s no way that I’m gonna miss that.” She declared. 

Stiles glanced at his dad, who nodded. “Yeah, I guess you all can stay if you’d like.” Stiles agreed.

“Alright, and there’s one last thing to discuss.” Derek announced. “We do need to keep training as a pack, and when Stiles learns a little more about his star, he’ll be welcome to participate in the drills as well.” 

The announcement of continued training made more than one werewolf groan, but Derek silenced them with a glare. “I know that in the past, training has been far from your preferred activities.” He started. “But it’s necessary, and after some thought, I’ll be making changes to the way that we do things.” He paused and unconsciously glanced towards Stiles and the Sheriff. “Since we need to work as a pack, we’ll be doing less one-on-one sparring, and more pack exercises. We’ll hunt as a pack and fight as a pack, because if we’re up against another pack, that’s how they’re going to fight, and win. We need to give ourselves a fighting chance, even though our pack is young and we lack experience.” 

The pack, although not too excited about the prospects of additional work, nodded their agreement to Derek’s proposal. With the pack’s approval, there seemed to be a weight that was lifted off of Derek’s shoulders, and he even managed a small smile towards the pack. 

After that, the meeting part started to dwindle, and Stiles brought out snack food. It was kind of weird, the pack actually hanging out at Stiles’ house, rather than just barging in to demand something. He decided that he preferred this instead. Even Peter was making rather stilted conversation with the Sheriff, who seemed partially disturbed and disapproving of whatever Peter was telling him…so, business as usual. 

Of course, everyone was just waiting around for Stiles to start glowing, and glow he did. Eventually, the ambient light grew brighter until the pack was squinting and covering their eyes as they tried to look directly at Stiles. Stiles, for his part, noticed that the headache wasn’t as horrible as it had been the night before. It was still excruciatingly painful, but it gave him hope that maybe he was getting used to it after all, and that maybe at some point he might be able to handle the transition painlessly. 

Stiles noticed that Derek watched him carefully through the transition. In fact, his eyes had barely left Stiles for more than a moment all evening. Just as Stiles was about to put some thought into that, though, Erica started poking his face. “It’s so…weird…” She said in awe as she continued to poke parts of Stiles that were glowing. 

“Yeah, thanks, could you maybe not with the poking?” Stiles asked, swatting her hand away. She slunk back with a pout, but the rest of the pack was looking at him with undisguised curiosity and amazement. Peter looked at him strangely, too, but Stiles was careful to ignore him. Such a creeper. 

“Okay.” Derek’s voice cut through the awestruck silence. “Now try to make it stop.” He challenged. “Just like you did last night.” Stiles nodded dutifully and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate, but it was a lot harder than the night before. For one, even though the pack wasn’t talking, Stiles could hear their breaths, and their tiny fidgets as they waited anxiously to see what he’d do. Stiles really tried hard to ignore it, but he could feel all their eyes on him and it was unbearably distracting. He managed to give his spark a couple mental pokes, but all it did was dim a little before flaring back up to full brightness. 

Stiles groaned in frustration and held his hand out, palm up, and wiggled his fingers impatiently, his eyes still firmly shut. Somehow Derek interpreted the gesture properly and moved closer, wrapping his hand around Stiles’ wrist, anchoring him. Stiles wrapped his own fingers around Derek’s wrist, linking them together properly. It was as if his senses were a television that had just been muted. There was a blessed silence within Stiles’ mind and it was a lot easier to begin the process of nudging the spark back to where it belonged. 

After what certainly felt like an eternity, Stiles had managed to painstakingly nudge the spark back far enough that he could see it in it’s entirety and he was sure that he wasn’t glowing anymore. However, Stiles was curious. Sure, it probably wasn’t the best time to try to mess with his spark, especially since there was so little that he actually knew about it, but Stiles wondered if there was more that he could do besides nudge it. 

Stiles decided he wanted to experiment and find out if he could summon his spark back to the surface, and so began the mental task of tugging the spark closer. Of course, for some reason mental tugs didn’t translate as seamlessly as mental pokes, so Stiles was ending up with a skull-splitting headache for his troubles. After a few moments, and much frustration, Stiles channeled as much irritation into the tug as possible, taking in the blinding light that resulted before everything faded to black. 

……

 

It was still dark when Stiles regained consciousness. Pitch-black, in fact. “Derek?” Stiles called out, thoroughly confused and noticing that his wrist was still held in someone’s (he assumed Derek’s) hand. The hand squeezed back reassuringly, “Yeah.” Derek, however, did not sound pleased in the slightest and Stiles winced. His head still hurt, but it was a dull throb, rather than a sharp stab. “Um. What happened?” He asked. He knew that he was lying down, and he assumed he was in his room, but there was literally no light coming from anywhere. 

“You seem to have caused a blackout.” Derek answered tonelessly. Stiles frowned, that answer only raised more questions. As if Derek could sense the impending flood of questions, which by now was entirely possible, he added, “A blackout that shorted out the entire state of California. Congratulations.” However his voice indicated anything but excitement. 

Stiles was torn between horror and an odd sense of pride in his accomplishment. Pushing down the latter, he asked cautiously, “How long have I been out?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but Derek heard. “Only about a half hour. The pack is downstairs trying to stay calm and decide what we’re going to do. Your father went back to the station to do damage control and see how easy this will be to fix.” 

Stiles nodded, even though he figured Derek couldn’t see him. Or maybe he could? Wolf-eyes and all. “So um. What did it look like?” He asked tentatively. 

“It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.” Derek admitted after a long moment. “You stopped glowing mostly, but then there was a flash of light, of raw energy that just seemed to pour off of you. When it stopped, we all thought you were dead, but you were still breathing, your heart still beating. But everything was dark.” He said. “After a few moments of trying to orient ourselves, we decided to move you upstairs and your father decided to see if there were any radio broadcasts being made, someone with backup power.” He took a breath and sighed heavily. “That’s how we found out it’s state-wide. It doesn’t look like mass hysteria has set in yet, but we’re sure that it’s only a matter of time before it’s declared a national emergency or something.” 

Stiles thought that was probably the longest speech Derek had ever made, but the wolf also sounded shaken in a way that he’d never heard before. So Stiles squeezed his hand gently, “I’m sorry.” He whispered, knowing that the words were pretty useless at this point, but needed to be said. “What’s going to happen, Derek?” He asked, the wolf’s tension beginning to rub off on him. Stiles was doing everything possible not to have a panic attack, but his mind had already jumped to the worst, to the end of the world, to an apocalypse that he’d managed to cause. Stiles imagined a world in which he’d managed to break electricity forever and humanity was launched into the dark ages…literally. The pun usually would have been enough to send Stiles into a fit of giggles, but somehow it just wasn’t funny enough to distract him from the situation. 

“Well.” Derek began. “We don’t know how long it’s going to last, or even what you did, really. We’re still deciding whether or not it would be pointless to call Deaton. I would assume that best-case scenario, you now have a massive target painted on your back for the people who know what to look for. Of course, until they have the resources to find out where the blast originated in, all they know is that you’re in California…which is a step up from “somewhere in the world”. Worst-case scenario…” Derek paused, thinking about it. Stiles could feel the tension increase and he was anything but comforted.

“Worst-case, the apocalypse has come and it’ll be us against the world?” Stiles filled in, completely devoid of his usual humor. Derek snorted mirthlessly, “Seems like it.” He agreed. “Either way, it looks like we’re not going to be able to stay in Beacon Hills.” 

Stiles had kind of figured, but hearing it out-loud was far more difficult than he’d thought. “If it’s not crazy people wanting to sacrifice me, then it’ll be the government who’s somehow managed to trace the energy here and they’ll probably assume I’m some kind of terrorist or national threat. Either way…” He trailed off. “Either way.” Derek agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](221bjohnlock-street.tumblr.com)


End file.
